CHAPTER III Miss Gillette arrived an hour late, which was not very remarkable. She had not seen the advertisements, so Mr. Reeder had nothing to explain. Her interest in his affairs had apparently waned completely. At 12 o’clock she came into his room and announced that she had a luncheon engagement, and might not be back till three. He was not very sorry. He rather wished she would not come back till three o’clock on some date to be named by himself, and he wished that he had the courage to tell her so. There was no response to his advertisement, and he regretted that his telephone number had not been included in his address. Miss Gillette had hardly left before the first of Mr. Reeder’s visitors came. Inspector Gaylor was curious to know what had been the result of the visit to Brixton Prison. “I am inclined to agree with you,” he said, when Reeder had sketched the conversation he had had with the prisoner. “At any rate, there is no evidence on which we could get a conviction. The pistol was of foreign make, and we have been able to trace one important fact--that when it was sold in Belgium, Alsby was still in prison. It might, of course, have been resold to him, but that’s unlikely.” “Have you ever heard of the Pizarro Syndicate?” asked Mr. Reeder unexpectedly. Gaylor had an excellent memory, possibly the better because he had been on that particular case. “The Treasure Hunters,” he smiled. “It’s strange you should mention Pizarro. I was trying to trace a man named Gelpin, who was one of the biggest shareholders and one of the biggest dupes. I wanted him, to get particulars of a former clerk of his, but I just couldn’t find him, which is queer, since he was a fairly rich man.” “Dead,” suggested Mr. Reeder. Gaylor shook his head. “No, he is abroad somewhere, I think, anyway he left the Midlands two years ago.” Mr. Reeder pursed his lips and looked at the detective tragically. “Left the Midlands two years ago,” he repeated mechanically. “Dear me.… Went abroad with a letter of credit, I am sure. How many people were there in the Pizarro Syndicate?” Gaylor was looking at him suspiciously. “What’s the idea? Has any other member of the Syndicate gone to live abroad?” “Two, to my knowledge.” Then there was a dead silence which Mr. Reeder broke. “One was a young man called Seafield.” Gaylor nodded. “I remember that name, yes?” “The other’s name was Ralph,” said Mr. Reeder slowly. He took from his drawer a written précis that he had prepared that morning and passed it silently to the inspector. Gaylor read very slowly, and naturally so, since J.G.’s writing was not the most legible. When he finished, he reached for the telephone. “I happen to know that Gelpin’s bank was the Scottish and Midland in Birmingham. Do you mind if I put a trunk call through?”